


Got a Hole in my Heart the Size of a Truck

by MillicentCordelia



Series: The Earth Trembled as You Passed By [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, relationship roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 01:05:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5072053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillicentCordelia/pseuds/MillicentCordelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When it came to romance, Oswald had always traded in the currency of despair. Until he met Jim Gordon, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to think about it. Meeting Jim brought false hope, brought the terror back to life. Against his will, he thought about Jim the first thing every morning, and the last thing every night.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wouldn't It Be Lovely

**Author's Note:**

> I got a hole in my heart the size of a truck  
> It won't be filled by a one-night fuck  
> \- Lou Reed
> 
> This fic takes place between season one and season two of Gotham.
> 
> There is a lovely illustration for the last chapter that you can find on Tumblr, by the very talented artist Hotgothamite!  
> View it here: https://hotgothamite.tumblr.com/post/143138387469/jim-stared-at-the-image-for-a-long-time-before-he

Oswald sat straight up in bed, gasping for breath, his heart racing. The specifics of the dream dissolved as he struggled awake, leaving him panicked without knowing why. Fighting to calm himself, he laid back down, focusing on the familiar sight of moonlight spilling through the blinds, creating a shifting pattern of light and dark on the blankets.

The muscular, blond man lying next to him rolled over and wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. “Another bad dream?”

Oswald pressed his face against his lover’s chest; no answer was necessary.

“Poor Ozzie.” The blonde kissed Oswald on the forehead. “Here. I’ll rub your back until you can get to sleep.” 

Large, powerful hands began kneading the knots out of Oswald’s tense muscles. “You’re too good to me,” Oswald murmured, already drifting off. Within minutes, he’d relaxed completely, his breathing becoming slow and even. 

“Sweet dreams,” Dennis whispered to the pale, delicate man sleeping in his arms. 

________________

When it came to romance, Oswald had always traded in the currency of despair. Until he met Jim Gordon , he couldn’t remember the last time he’d allowed himself to think about it. A driven workaholic, he didn’t date; sex was either a means of furthering his ambitions, or a businesslike encounter that left no emotional residue. His passionate infatuation for Jim shattered the illusion that he was happy living his life alone. Despite Jim’s rejection of Oswald’s overtures, there was a brief period of hopefulness that eventually died an ugly death, leaving Oswald bitter and dejected. 

It was shortly before Don Falcone’s fall from power that Oswald was sitting near the stage in his club late one afternoon, poring over a stack of ledgers. The business still wasn’t doing much more than breaking even, but soon-if he had his way-it wouldn’t matter. 

Butch broke into his reverie. “Somebody here to see you, Boss.” Oswald looked up to see a blonde, broad shouldered man standing near the front of the club, backlit by the neon over the bar. He held his breath, feeling himself flush with excitement; then the man stepped forward, and his heart sank when he saw it wasn’t Jim. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cobblepot. I hope I’m not disturbing you, and I apologize for coming here unannounced.” He offered Oswald his hand. “I’m Dennis Pennington. Mr. Falcone requested that I stop by to see you.

Oswald presented the stranger with his most obsequious smile. “Please, have a seat. What is it that my dear friend wishes us to discuss?”

“The success, or lack thereof, of your fledgling venture. I’m an investment banker, among other things, and I advise Mr. Falcone concerning the management of some of his businesses.” He handed Oswald his card.

“The profits haven’t been impressive, but at least we’re in the black. Here, let me give you a tour of the renovations we’ve made to the place.” Oswald beckoned to Butch, who joined in the conversation with a description of his strategies to make “Oswald’s” as successful as the club’s former incarnation. Oswald gestured theatrically; Butch spoke earnestly and persuasively. The three walked through the club; then Dennis sat down and went over the books with Oswald. 

Oswald noted that Dennis’ resemblance to Jim was superficial. Jim’s features were rugged; Dennis’ were aristocratic and refined. He had beautifully defined cheekbones, and an aquiline nose; think, honey blonde hair and caramel colored eyes. Oswald was well aware of quality when he saw it, and he recognized that the impeccably tailored suit Dennis wore would have cost months of Jim’s salary. 

His mannerisms were different from Jim’s, as well. Jim rarely smiled, and projected anger and aggression. Dennis moved with a languid ease. The expression in his eyes gave him the air of someone faintly amused; as if he were perpetually entertained by some private joke.

Dennis looked up from a ledger, smiling. “Do I have spinach caught between my teeth?”

Oswald was taken off guard. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re staring at me. You’re either anxious about these numbers, or I didn’t brush my teeth thoroughly enough after lunch.”

“Neither, I...” Oswald felt himself starting to blush. “I was just noticing how much you resemble...a friend of mine.” 

“Extraordinarily handsome, is he?” Dennis raised his eyebrows, then laughed. “The numbers are fine. No one expects miracles overnight, not even Mr. Falcone. I’d like to have your contact information, in case I need to get in touch with you; and please, don’t hesitate to call me if there’s anything you need.”

When Oswald walked him to the door, Dennis held out his hand again. Oswald wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, or if Dennis did hold on to his hand a few seconds longer than necessary.

After Dennis left, he examined the business card. As well as an investment banker, Dennis was a CFA, and a lawyer. Impressive. He threw the card in a desk drawer in his office. 

Two days later, Dennis called and asked if Oswald would like to meet him for dinner. Oswald asked for a rain check, saying he was, unfortunately, overwhelmed at the moment with business related matters. Dennis ended the conversation by saying, “Call me if you have a free evening.”

Oswald was torn; Dennis was personable, intelligent, good-looking, and Oswald would have to be a fool to turn down the opportunity to get to know him. Still, he was holding out hope that Jim might someday learn to see him in a different light. It was irrational, but he held on to that hope as if it were something real. Something precious. 

A week later, Jim handcuffed him to a radiator and threatened to leave him there to die. 

The next day, Oswald called Dennis and told him he’d be free that evening. 

________________

When Oswald was ten, his mother had taken him shopping one brilliant blue day in late October. Their destination was in a part of downtown Gotham that had fallen almost entirely into ruins. Most of the buildings were empty, their windows boarded up and covered with graffiti. Scraggly weeds grew in profusion through cracks in the sidewalk, and even the street. Oswald had to watch his step, to avoid the broken glass that littered his path. Still, it was a beautiful day; the few trees they passed blazed with fall color, and Oswald was excited over thoughts of Halloween. Gertrude led Oswald to a brightly painted storefront, sandwiched in between a shoe repair shop and a Greek Delicatessen. 

The woman who greeted them was an old friend of Gertrude’s; her shop was a jumble of ethnic jewelry, scarves, and outfits of the type Gertrude favored. Oswald was wandering towards the back of the store, lost in his own thoughts, when he heard a sound that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. It was a man, singing, in the shop next door. The language was unfamiliar to Oswald, but there was no way to misunderstand the meaning. It was about loneliness.

It was a glimpse into a dreadful future, and it destroyed the day, and shattered his innocent faith that things were bound to get better with time. The song told the story of what happens when it never gets better, the story of a life that is nothing more than one lonely day after another, year after year, until the lonely years string together so that no one is different from the other. Then, when death finally arrives to provide relief, there is no life left to let go of. Oswald buried his terror-of a life of loneliness, unloved and unwanted, deep in a hidden corner of his heart. 

Meeting Jim brought false hope, brought the terror back to life. Against his will, he thought about Jim the first thing every morning, and the last thing every night. 

________________

A connoisseur of fine wine and fine dining, Dennis took Oswald to L'Espalier, one of Gotham’s best restaurants for their first date. Everything from the walls to the tablecloths were understated shades of cream and eggshell, made golden by the warm, muted lighting. With his eccentric suit and his unconventional hairstyle, Oswald felt that he probably looked freakish to the other customers. He sincerely wished he hadn’t put on his favorite black eyeliner. 

Dennis looked to be completely at home, while Oswald, all nerves and adrenalin, unsuccessfully tried to appear nonchalant. About half way through the meal, Oswald looked down and, to his horror, noticed his hand trembling so badly he had to sit his wineglass down for fear of dropping it. 

Dennis reached out and took his hand. “It’s freezing in here, isn’t it? Your hand’s like ice; I’ll never understand why they insist on keeping this place as frigid as Antarctica.” 

Oswald was already finding comfort in Dennis’ smile. “Honestly, I’m nervous, not cold. I feel out of place here, and I want you to like me.” 

“I already like you. Of course you’re out of place in this very boring establishment, you’re obviously someone interesting. If anyone gives you a second look, they’re undoubtedly jealous that you’re with me and not them.” Dennis gave Oswald’s hand a squeeze before letting it go. “The question is, do you like me? I must not seem very exciting compared to most of the people you meet in your line of work.”

“My exciting world of ruffians, thugs, and people who’re out to kill me?” Oswald paused, and lowered his voice. “I do like you. Very much. But I have trouble letting my guard down.”

After dinner, Dennis accompanied Oswald to his suite of rooms above the club. They sat on an overstuffed sofa in front of the fireplace, drinking brandy and chatting; until Dennis leaned in and kissed Oswald, gently, on the lips. Oswald responded with enthusiasm; he felt relaxed now that the terrain was becoming more familiar. The kiss became more intense; when they came up for air, Oswald asked Dennis if he wanted to move to the bedroom.

“No. I’m not interested in a one nighter, and I don’t want to rush things. I’m serious about this; I want to get to know you. This isn’t about a notch on my belt.” He stroked Oswald’s hair. 

Sex, in Oswald’s world, was something fast and efficient. Making out, fully clothed, for hours, was new to his experience. By the time Dennis left, Oswald knew he was in over his head. 

Within a few weeks, Dennis and Oswald were spending every night together.

Dennis proved to be an extraordinarily attentive suitor. He was considerate of Oswald’s busy schedule, yet managed to always be there when Oswald needed him. He was a generous and affectionate lover; both tender and passionate. It didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eye, quick witted, and obviously crazy about Oswald. 

He took Oswald shopping for antiques, sharing his extensive knowledge and refined tastes, helping Oswald furnish the new luxurious condo that was his first purchase after becoming established as the new King of Gotham. Dennis introduced Oswald, proudly, to his social circle, a group of young professionals that didn’t bat an eye over the nature of Oswald’s livelihood. It was, after all, Gotham. There were dinner parties, nights at the opera and ballet, and cozy evenings at home. Dennis even persuaded Oswald to see an orthopedic surgeon about his bad leg.

Miraculously, Dennis had charmed Gertrude. Instead of being jealous of the interloper who’d stolen her son’s heart, she welcomed him into their lives. He catered to her, spent time with her, brought her flowers and small gifts. Wisely, Dennis realized that courting Oswald meant courting Gertrude as well. 

In short, Dennis was a superb boyfriend. Oswald reminded himself daily, that he was lucky; luckier than he deserved, luckier than he’d expected to be. At night, when he snuggled up to his lover, he felt more at peace than he could ever remember feeling. He’d never been happier.

Except for one problem. Sometimes, when he should have been thinking of Dennis, he’d catch himself thinking of Jim. 

He tried not to let it bother him. Nothing in life, after all, was ever completely perfect.


	2. The Devil Tried to Fill Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The devil tried to fill me up but my down was high  
> As the sky is up, ah  
> Ain't that just my luck  
> -Lou Reed

Midnight wasn’t the best time for Jim to be pouring himself another drink. Too much whiskey, too late at night, and he’d still be slightly drunk the next morning when he went to work. Not that he needed to be cold sober to do what a traffic cop had to do. He couldn’t sleep, and whiskey was the only thing that helped. He’d gone to bed hours earlier, tossed and turned; finally given up. Lee was sleeping peacefully, like she always did. He’d shut the bedroom door so as not to disturb her. 

He reminded himself how lucky he was to have Lee; she was the ideal girlfriend. Pretty, supportive, eager to please- and a good cook. Didn’t ask too many questions; ignored his lengthy silences when he got in a dark mood. Best of all, she’d thrown herself at him with all the subtly of a steamroller. No courtship necessary.

A driven workaholic, Jim didn’t date; he’d never needed to. He was the perfect combination of good looks and a reserved, taciturn personality that served as a blank screen for people to project their fantasies onto. When he was single-which was rare, because he hated being alone with himself-someone inevitably approached him, and he quickly latched onto the first reasonable candidate. 

Jim liked getting the fuss and bother out of the way as fast as possible. He and Barbara had gotten engaged within a few weeks of meeting; he’d moved in with Lee in such short order that he’d never even gotten his own apartment after the break-up with Barbara. 

Despite Lee’s selfless devotion, he’d become restless. Her biological clock was ticking, and she’d starting talking about how much she wanted children. He promised her he’d think about it, and he was; thinking about how he didn’t want the responsibility, didn’t want to have to put in the time it took to be a good father. It was more than that-he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with Lee, which made no rational sense whatsoever.

One drink led to another, and he still wasn’t sleepy. His phone buzzed; he checked it, and was puzzled-he didn’t recognize the number. On a whim, he answered it.

“Jimmy? Is this Jim Gordon?”

He recognized the voice immediately. He knew he should hang up.

“Jim? Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Bill?”

“Damn, Jimmy, it’s good to hear your voice! I heard you were a cop in Gotham. I called the precinct-somebody finally gave me your number when I convinced him I was an old army buddy. How’ve you been? I’m sorry for calling so late.”

“I’m good. Can’t complain. You?” The conversation seemed surreal; Jim’s heart felt like it was going to explode, it was beating so fast.

“I’m all right. I live in Manhattan, but I travel some with my job. I install computer systems in banks, mostly. I won’t bore you with the details. I’m gonna be in Gotham for a few days. Is there a time we could get together? Have a few drinks, for old times sake?”

No, Jim thought. Bad idea. No, absolutely not, not a chance. “Sure. How’s Friday night?”

“Perfect. Where do you want to meet?”

“I know a place. Right outside the city limits, called “Anderton’s”. Food’s good. I can be there about seven.”

“I’ll look forward to it. See you then.” Bill sounded delighted.

Jim hung up. All he’d done was have a conversation with someone he never thought he’d see again, and he already felt like he’d committed a crime. ‘Shit,” he said out loud. He figured he’d just add it to the growing list of things he’d be burning in Hell for. He poured himself another drink.

________________

The parking lot at Anderton’s was so full, Jim almost couldn’t find a parking place. It was exactly as he’d hoped; he and Bill would be lost in the crowd, in a place where it was unlikely he’d run into anyone he knew. The only reason they would stand out, was they might be the only customers whose hair wasn’t snowy white. The place was so popular with the geriatric set, Jim felt there should be a sign out front : “Last Stop Before Eternity.”

He sat in the car a full half hour, working up the nerve to go inside. Thinking about leaving and pretending he’d never gotten that phone call. He hadn’t lied to Lee; not yet, anyway. Told her he was going to meet a guy he’d served with, who was passing through town, and that was the truth.

Jim had met Bill in college. They’d quickly become good friends; at the end of their freshman year, they’d enlisted together. They’d qualified and trained for Special Forces together. They’d fought together. Narrowly escaped death together. Gone on leave together. They’d been inseparable, for years. 

After the army-nothing. Not a phone call, an email, a birthday card. By mutual agreement, there had been nothing except silence and an empty space where the other used to be. 

He had no idea what Bill wanted. Closure, maybe. Maybe something else.

He went inside.  
The décor, which hadn’t changed since dinosours roamed the earth, could’ve been designed by Tim Burton. The stucco walls were turquoise green, adorned with a nightmarish array of larger than life plastic fish; everything else was a garish orange-pink, the color of flamingos and shrimp and sunburned flesh. 

He located Bill in seconds. 

They stood next to the booth where Bill’d been sitting; not hugging, or even shaking hands; standing there, awkwardly silent; staring at each other until they both abruptly sat down and pretended to study the menu.

“So, what’s good here?” Bill’s voice was shaky, just enough for Jim to notice.

Jim almost replied, “You.” It was true; Bill looked good; more than good. He was shorter than Jim, compact and toned; he looked even more fit than when Jim had last seen him. A few strands of his short, naturally jet-black hair fell in his face. His Native American heritage showed in his high cheekbones, and his almond shaped eyes; eyes that were a deep chocolate brown, generously fringed with thick black lashes. 

Instead, Jim reached across the table; took Bill’s hand and guided it to the ‘Number Three’. “The specialty here is comfort food; you can’t go wrong with the meat loaf and mashed potatoes.” He could feel, as well as see, Bill relax; Bill met his eyes, and smiled- the same dazzling smile Jim remembered. 

He held onto Bill’s hand until the waitress came to take their order. 

They talked, all through dinner, with a sort of urgency; years’ worth of news came tumbling out all at once. They talked about their jobs, and what Gotham had become, and reminisced about their shared past. Before they knew it, three hours had passed; the restaurant was almost empty, and on the verge of closing.

Jim looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get home; work tomorrow.” He searched Bill’s face; if he was disappointed, Bill didn’t show it.

“I’ve missed you, Jimmy. Can we do this again? Soon? I’ll be back in Gotham in two weeks.”

“Absolutely. I’ll call you.” 

They left through different exits.

________________

When Jim told Lee he had rented an apartment of his own, she was understanding and agreeable.

“ I think it’s healthy, for you to have a place of your own to go to, to decompress. Everyone needs alone time.” She patted Jim’s hand. “ I know my apartment’s kind of small for two people. When my lease is up, we can talk about finding a larger place, together.” She smiled sweetly. “Besides, it’s not as if I don’t trust you.”

Relief quickly replaced the wave of guilt that passed over him. The longer he’d stayed at Lee’s, the more claustrophobic he’d felt. At first, he’d enjoyed how she catered to his every need. Gradually, he started to feel smothered. Sometimes he wondered what he was to her. A project of some kind, like a closet that needed organizing; maybe a substitute for the children she said she wanted. He was pretty sure she had no idea who he really was. Hell, he wasn’t even sure about that himself.

They’d never discussed whether or not their relationship was exclusive. She seemed to take it for granted that it was. Just like she took it for granted that they’d eventually get married, and have children. 

Jim’s new apartment was nothing special; a two bedroom flat in a blue collar neighborhood, on the fifth floor of a red brick building that “had a lot of character”. Meaning, it dated to the 1920s and didn’t have central heat or air. His unit had a balcony facing the inner courtyard and the rooms were large. There was plenty of storage space, which mattered; because he planned to move everything from his storage unit into the apartment, and apply the money he’d paid for it to the new place’s rent. 

He hired a couple of young cops to help him and Harvey clean out the storage unit, and move furniture and boxes. Pretty much everything in there came from his parents’ house when his mom died. His brother Roger, who lived in Seattle, had wanted very little. There was enough furniture and household goods to completely furnish Jim’s apartment; all he had to buy was a new mattress. The moving was over and done in a day.

The next evening, he called Bill.

________________

“Does it ever give you the creeps?” Bill was absent-mindedly combing his fingers through Jim’s hair, which was still damp with sweat.

Jim opened his eyes, and yawned. “Does what give me the creeps?” He didn’t want to move from his current comfortable position, his head resting on Bill’s chest. The two men were stretched out, naked, on Jim’s bed; relaxing after a strenuous bout of getting reacquainted. 

“Having your mom’s furniture in here. Does it ever make you feel like you never left home? Or maybe like, she’s haunting the place?”

“Nah. My imagination’s not creative like that.” Jim stretched, and moved; propped himself up on one elbow, his face near Bill’s. “The only thing that’s ever haunted me is you. Remind me why it’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.” Jim kissed Bill, lingeringly, on the mouth; then lay his head on Bill’s chest, again.

Bill sighed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was that last conversation we had about how everything that happened between us was just blowing off steam; it didn’t mean we were gay, and we both planned to go home and marry the girl next door and have kids and a house in the suburbs.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Jim winced. “How’d that work out for you?”

“It didn’t. I left Louisville almost immediately. Moved to New York. Haven’t dated anyone except men. So much for the suburbs and the white picket fence. You?”

“I worked as a cop in Chicago for a while; came back here when my mom died.” Jim hesitated. “I was engaged to a woman named Barbara for a while. We split up, and this other woman-a doctor-she asked me out. So I was living with her until I got this place.”

“You mean you got this place just so you could be alone with me?” Bill had a wicked gleam in his eye. “Or was it to escape from the lady doctor?”

“Both,” Jim admitted. “How’d you feel about a hot shower right about now?” 

Bill kissed him on the top of the head. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Once in the shower, the conversation gave way to boisterous laughter; and then to the sounds of two lovers continuing the process of getting to know each other again, after a long separation. 

________________

Once Bill returned to New York, and Jim found himself alone in his new apartment, he remembered what Bill’d said about the furniture. He sat on the sofa drinking a beer, staring at his mom’s coffee table. There was a crack in the glass, where she’d fallen and hit her head one night right before he left for college.

Good ol’ mom. According to Jim’s mother, there was no such thing as a problem so large that it couldn’t be solved by a handful of pills, and a few stiff drinks. He was absolutely positive that if she did return as a ghost, she’d be haunting some place with a lot more booze than his humble apartment. 

He thought about Lee; about how upset she’d be if she found out about Bill. It wasn’t his fault if she’d never noticed he’d made no promises to be monogamous. He’d been honest with Bill, at least, about his double life. He knew Bill wouldn’t stick around forever, unless he broke up with Lee; but for now, everything was working. 

Almost everything. Sometimes when he was with Bill, he wasn’t thinking about Bill. He was imagining that Bill was someone else. Someone else, with jet black hair, who used to look at Jim like he was looking at the holy face of the one true god.

He felt rotten about it, but he couldn’t help it. 

He turned on the TV, and left it on all night.


	3. Calm as an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the moon is shining  
> Over the docks shining  
> Ooohhh, calm as an angel  
> -Lou Reed

New York City was, in Dennis’ words, “Gotham times ten”. He’d finally talked Oswald into taking a weekend off, and enjoying a mini-vacation; and he planned to get the most out of every moment. He’d booked a park view executive suite, with a terrace, at the Four Seasons. He’d gotten tickets for the Broadway production of Hedwig and the Angry Inch, which they went to see with a group of his Manhattan based friends; and afterwards, the group ended up at a delightful Greek restaurant. 

Oswald felt like Cinderella. The hotel alone was overwhelming, an art deco vision that seemed to have been imported from 1930s Hollywood. The energy, the theater, the people, the crowds- it was thrilling, but by the end of the evening, Oswald was eager to get back to their suite and collapse. Waiting for Dennis to say his goodbyes to his friends, Oswald stood outside, in front of the restaurant; smoking a cigarette. 

________________

While Oswald was dining with Dennis and his friends, Jim was having dinner with Bill in a nearby family style Italian eatery. 

“I’m happy you’ve started visiting me; but I’m greedy. I wish I could have you here all the time.” Bill looked hopeful. “I know you don’t want to leave Gotham, but what’s there for you anymore, besides a job as a traffic cop? You could apply to be a detective here. Maybe think about just being happy, instead of saving Gotham.”

“ I’ve got to be honest. I’m not sure I’m ready to break up with Lee; she’s a good person, and she deserves better than a man who can’t be faithful to her. But she’s been good for me; healthy, somehow.” Jim’s discomfort showed in his face. He’d known this talk was coming, eventually. 

Bill forged ahead. “You make her sound like a dose of medicine. If you were in love with her you wouldn’t be here. I know, it’s complicated. You’re complicated. I want you anyway. I’m not even jealous of Lee, it’s the guy you talk about in your sleep that worries me.” 

“What guy?” Jim felt the stirrings of panic.

“I don’t know, but you mutter things about “slave for life” and “secret agent.” Mostly it’s incoherent mumbling, but when you wake up you’re, uh, aggressively amorous.”

Great. At least he hadn’t mentioned any names. “Bill, I don’t know if I’ll ever be who you want me to be. I’m sorry; I’m not sure what I want, and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s OK. I can wait a while longer for you to figure it out.”

After dinner, they walked for a while before Jim caught a cab for the train station; holding hands, like any couple might do. As the cab pulled over, Jim kissed Bill, held him for a moment; and then he was gone.

Bill turned up the collar of his jacket, and walked away, in the opposite direction.

________________

Oswald was enjoying a moment to himself, ‘people watching’ as he waited for Dennis. He’d just raised his cigarette to his lips, when he caught sight of two men hailing a cab, a few yards away from where he stood. 

It couldn’t be.

It was.

Jim Gordon. He was kissing, and holding someone-who most definitely was not the medical examiner he was supposedly involved with. Oswald stared in amazement. Jim was cheating on her; cheating. With a man.

As the cab pulled away, Oswald was overcome with rage. He didn’t even notice the cigarette was still in his hand, until it had burned away to ash. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Dennis’ voice made him jump. “I saw the men you were staring at. Someone you know, perhaps? The blonde wouldn’t be that policeman you were sweet on for so long, would it?”

“How did you know..........?” 

“People talk. I’ve seen photos of Mr. Lawman in the paper.” Dennis stopped, and looked at how pale Oswald’d become. “You look ill. You were surprised to see him with a man, weren’t you?”

“Yes. Yes, I was.”

Dennis took Oswald’s arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

In the cab, on the way back to the hotel, Dennis wrapped his arms around Oswald, who clung to him as if he were a life preserver in the middle of the ocean. “You thought he was straight, and that’s why he didn’t want you.”

“Now I know that wasn’t it. It was me. He didn’t want me because I was me.” 

Dennis nuzzled Oswald’s neck. “He’s an idiot, an utter fool. It’s my good fortune, though. Are you going to be all right?’

“Better than all right. Thank you for being my rock. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

They made love that night, and afterwards, Dennis told Oswald that he loved him. Oswald said it back without hesitation; and it was true. He did love Dennis-although he wasn’t in love with him, and probably never would be. He was still in love with Jim, even after everything Jim’d done, even after how wonderful Dennis had been. Someday, he knew, that would be the reason the relationship with Dennis would end.

But for tonight, he enjoyed the warmth and comfort of Dennis’ arms. Tonight, he wasn’t alone.

________________

Jim got back to his apartment just before midnight. He had an unopened bottle of bourbon on the kitchen counter. He fixed himself a nightcap, and went out on the balcony; carrying a small cardboard box with him. In the box, were loose family photos. He went through them, smiling as one or the other triggered a happy memory. His favorite was one of him and Roger, playing with a video game they’d gotten one Christmas. At the bottom of the box was a manila envelope he’d hidden there; the name on the envelope was Renee Montoya. 

He’d taken it from her desk, while she was packing up her things, getting ready to move to Baltimore. He figured she wouldn’t miss it. When she and Allen had believed Jim to be guilty of Oswald’s murder, they’d asked Oswald’s mother for a photograph. 

Based on the date on the back of the photo, Oswald must have been about nineteen. Small for his age, he looked even younger. The clothes he wore were a poor fit; but he held his head high, managing to look dignified despite the shabbiness that surrounded him. His eyes were unmistakable; the most beautiful shade of blue-green this side of heaven.

Jim stared at the image for a long time before he placed it back in the envelope, and buried it under the other photos. 

He sat with his head in his hands, and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this fic, as well as the chapter titles, are taken from Lou Reed's "Like a Possum". "Like a Possum" is track #4 on the album Ecstasy.
> 
> You can find the complete lyrics here. 
> 
> http://www.metrolyrics.com/like-a-possum-lyrics-lou-reed.html


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